To Divide and Conquer
by Delas
Summary: Prepare yourself, Muggles! It is Harry’s sixth year of Hogwarts and with Voldemort out and about, the world needs saving! And it just so happens that it’s salvation lies within… or at least that’s what the Sorting Hat claims.


**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all his worldly luggage belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. *sob*

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_It's Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts and the wizarding world is quickly dissolving into chaos. Voldemort is gaining strength, people are in denial (and dying), the Ministry is corrupted, old prejudices are flaring up, Hogwarts isn't uniting, and Harry must rise above it all. It's a gamble to save Hogwarts from the clutches of the Death Eaters._

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**To Divide and Conquer**

_Chapter One: Of Letters and Dreams_

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily. His lungful of air hitched painfully in this chest while his eyes flew around the room frantically, scanning over objects that were familiar, but still not his. There was hardly anything in this room he could call his own, hardly anything familiar to still his racing heart. His eyes finally came to a halt on the neon numbers of his alarm clock. While he watched, his heart beating frantically in his chest, the numbers changed to 3:12. He stared at it for a moment before he swallowed thickly and turned his head into his pillow. He started to cry, softly. For him, the tears stopped after only a few minutes. Harry wondered dimly if it were actually possible to run out of tears. Maybe humans were given a certain allotment of tears when they were born, and if they used them up before they died they couldn't cry anymore. Harry prayed that was true, because he was tired of tears. They did nothing to help him feel better. They burned his eyes and make him feel weak and helpless.

Harry stretched a hand over to his nightstand and grabbed his glasses, clumsily putting them on this face. The world was still blurry, so he slipped his fingers under the lens and vigorously rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. He wiped away the wetness on his cheeks, and put his hands in his lap, his mind surprisingly vacant. His emerald eyes stared blankly off into space, not seeing the shabbiness of his room, or the half eaten plate of food on the floor. His eyes didn't take in the faint fluttering of the curtains from his open window. A ridiculously loud snore from Mr. Dursley didn't even faze him. What snapped him out of it, he didn't know, but after a moment, he jerked back into attention and berated himself for zoning out. He had the dream dozens of times already and there was no reason to call it to mind unnecessarily.

_"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair Stunning Spells flew towards them. "Now, I want you to get out of--"_

_They both ducked again.  A jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius; across the room, Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling stone seat to stone seat, and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray._

_"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix._

Harry clenched his hands into fists. "Stop it!" he said fiercely. His mind completely ignored the command, so he threw the covers away and stood up. He strode over to the window and gently drew the curtains to the side, enough so he could glimpse outside. It was still dark, but the sort of dark that spoke of light in the future. Harry liked this time of the day. It was cold, but not cold enough that he was shivering. His feet were going numb on the bare wooden floor though, so he stepped away from the window to his bed and reached under his sheets, where he felt around for his socks. He found one, then found the other, and sat down to put them on. He moved slowly, because the dream was still playing through his mind, and he found it hard to think of anything else. He stopped when he had one sock on, not bothering to put on the other, and stared back towards the curtains.

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…_

_And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise  on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through  the ancient  doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and fell back into place._

_Harry heard Bellatrix's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing — Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second…_

_But Sirius did not reappear._

_"SIRIUS!"__ Harry yelled, "SIRIUS!"_

In a fit of rage that bubbled up from his chest, Harry sprang from the bed and grasped the curtains, tearing them down with a ferocity that would have scared him at any other moment but this. He took them into his hands and frantically began to rip them, his eyes blurred with tears and anger.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!" _she called in her mock baby-voice, which echoed off of the polished wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"_

_"I am!" shouted Harry, and a score of ghostly Harrys seemed to chorus _I am! I am! I am! _all__ around the room._

_"Aaaaaah… did you _love_ him, little baby Potter?" _

_Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed "_Crucio!_"_

_Bellatrix screamed._

Harry nearly screamed aloud with the frustration that coursed through him. His jaw was clenched shut thankfully, he could feel his teeth grinding together. _Whatever happens, I mustn't scream. _His hands were clenched around the curtains, and there was a dull throb in his head, like a headache, but it wasn't that. He was crying harder now, the tears that burned his eyes, and he couldn't hold it any longer and he finally did shout, heaving the curtains apart and they rendered with a great RIPPP, and he could barely see through the tears and anger in his eyes. He continued to rip the curtains, imagining to himself that it was the veil, and if he ripped hard enough, fast enough, that when he was done Sirius would be there next to him, that doggish grin on his face and saying _All right, Harry?_

A sudden pounding on the door cause him to jump, and he froze in his ripping. 

"WHAT IN SAM-HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?" bellowed Mr. Dursley from the hallway, and the man pounded on the door again with a meaty fist.

A sudden viciousness rose up in Harry, the sudden urge to take his anger and frustration out on somebody, _anybody_. His mind suddenly slammed shut and he rose from the mangled curtains like a wraith ready to possess, and glided over to the door. Snape, Occulumens master and utter bastard that he was, would have been proud. He waited until Vernon started knocking again before he grasped the knob and swung the door open. Vernon's hand missed hitting the door again and the pudgy fist paused in midair. His eyes moved downward and rested on Harry, and he took an involuntary step back.

"What?" Harry hissed. His eyes were cold, his voice quiet.

Uncle Vernon's mouth moved, but no sound came out. He sputtered before a moment before wrapping himself in indignant rage and bellowing "What in god's name are you doing in there? You woke me and Petunia up with your blasted shouting!" Uncle Vernon shifted to the side and peered past Harry into the room. He got very red in the face, and yelled "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY CURTAINS?"

Harry merely smiled at Uncle Vernon, in his mind comparing him to all the nastiest and most hateful things he had ever known in his life. Right now, he looked remarkably like Bellatrix, and Harry wanted nothing more in his life than to blast the hideous creature of his feet.

"What I'm doing is none of your business." said Harry coolly, staring down at his nails in interest, rubbing them on his shirt, then admiring them, because he knew how it would infuriate him.

Mr. Dursley was sputtering in rage. "NONE OF MY BUSINESS?" he shrieked.

Harry dropped his hand down to his side and fixed his Uncle with a piercing stare, tired of the games, and slowly and deliberately drew his wand which he pointed with great relish in Vernon's face. "Yes, none of your business." He confirmed, his eyes glinting dangerously. He felt the tugging of a smile on his face, but his face showed no emotion utter than complete loathing. 

"You listen here, boy!" Vernon began, swatting away the wand in a moment of bravery and grabbing Harry by the arm, his nails digging painfully into the skin. Harry's temper flared violently. "I don't care what you freaks do up at that school of yours, but in _my_ household you obey _my_ rules!" he said, shaking Harry for emphasis. "I've had just about enough of you freaks controlling my life and threatening my family! First it was attacking Dudley with your wand, then it was that psychopath Black, now it's that freak man with the screwed up, disgusting eye! I TELL YOU I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" bellowed Mr. Dursley.

Harry was literally shaking with rage. "How dare you—" he seethed, but was cut of when Vernon attempted to shove him back into the room. He caught the door just before it closed, and heaved back with all his strength. Caught by surprise, the door was ripped from Vernon's grasp and crashed back open into the wall. Harry brandished his wand, trembling in anger, seeing red. "How dare you—" he repeated. "How _dare_ you insult Sirius, I'll _kill_ you—" he broke off, words failing to enunciate the immense hatred he felt for this _thing _that dared insult his godfather. Sparks flew out of his wand and Vernon back hurriedly away, looking terrified and his normally pink visage turning several shade whiter. Harry advanced, his grip on the wand so tight his fingers hurt.

"Don't you _ever_ talk about Sirius! You don't know him! You don't – don't have the right to even _say his name_!" Harry sputtered in rage, and had he been viewing this from someone else's point of view, he would have noticed that he looked remarkably like Mr. Dursley as he was a few moments before; red in the face, his mouth moving but no words coming out.

Vernon was edging away from the advancing Harry, looking frantically around the hallway, his eyes darting around for some way to escape. "Now y-you listen here, boy, I refuse to b-be cowed by a freak like y-you—" he stammered. His eyes were wild and he had the look of a cornered bull.

Harry had barely even heard what Vernon said. His entire world was focused on his trembling wand, the red face of his Uncle, and the intense hatred welling up inside of himself that he didn't even know he possessed. Sirius was— was dead, and he gave up a happy life with his godfather, he lost someone he loved, for this—this _thing_, this life. It was unfair, it was cruel, how could they do this to him? How could they send him back here? The rage reached a crescendo, and Harry let his instincts take over.

"_Petrifi__--" _began Harry, but the hex died on his lips when both he and his Uncle froze. A large thud echoed back in Harry's room. 

Distracted for a moment, Harry felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head. Suddenly, Harry was thrown back into reality and he was shocked to find his wand in a death grip and pointed at Uncle Vernon in front of Dudley's bedroom. Horrified, he clumsily he put his wand in his back pocket and backed off, his eyes wide in disbelief and never leaving the face of Mr. Dursley. "I— I didn't… I didn't mean to—" he whispered frantically. His eyes burned with tears. What had he been doing? Sure he was mad and upset, but attacking his Uncle?  He looked fearfully up at his Uncle, cringing, knowing exactly what an attack this magnitude would have on the man. Luckily for Harry, Vernon was beet red in the face and looked so angry as to be beyond words or actions. The man looked about to explode, and Hurry wondered worriedly if causing his Uncle to have a heart attack would be held against him.

Another loud thud brought Harry's attention back down the hall, and casting a fearful glance back at his raging Uncle, he hurried back into his bedroom. Hedwig was banging on the closed window, wanting to be let in. She had several heavy looking letters attached to her leg and her wings were beating frantically. Harry hurriedly flipped the latch on the window and opened it, holding his arm out for a very grateful and indignant Hedwig to land on. He cast an apprehensive look at his bedroom door, realizing he had left it open, but Uncle Vernon was obviously still not in enough control to move. Cheeks burning in humiliation he put Hedwig on the bed and hurried over to close the door, as quietly as possible. A quick look out the door showed Uncle Vernon standing rigid with his back against the wall. He was staring blankly forward, still red in the face. Harry knew the only thing that kept his Uncle in the hall were the threats of the Order hanging over Vernon's head. Harry quietly shut the door and wished he could lock it using magic. It almost seemed worth the trouble it would get him. Not that Dumbledore would allow him to be expelled, but it wasn't worth the scolding and the disappointment he would likely receive. Actually, he could probably pass it off as tradition, considering his history. A sentiment the Weasley twins would surely appreciate. _Couldn't resist having a clean record for the summer, could ya Harry? A chip off the old block. You've done us proud!_

Hedwig let out a loud hoot, demanding attention. Harry obliged, stroking her feathers to calm her down, making soft crooning noises. "Thank you Hedwig." said Harry softly, and he deftly untied the letters from her leg. There were three altogether. He picked up the first one and looked at the address. It was from Hermione. The address was from the Burrow, and his stomach clenched tightly when he thought of her having fun with Ron and his family. He quickly banished the feeling, telling himself that he was being selfish.

He carefully tore open the envelope and set it aside after pulling the letter out. He would be embarrassed to admit it, but he kept every envelope and letter he had ever received. It seemed kind of pointless now, after so many years, but the first letter he had ever received was when he was eleven, when an envelope had been address to him, little Harry of all people. That first surge of amazement and gratefulness that someone else recognized his existence was one of the happiest moments in his childhood. His frist invitation to Hogwarts, one of his most precious belongings. The letter was carefully kept in his private things, along with ever letter he had ever received from both Hogwarts and the Ministry. The letters from his friends were in his trunk. And among those letters, if he ever got the nerve to look, were the letters from Sirius he had gotten two summers ago. Those happy and wonderful letters from his godfather, who had loved him as no one else in his life did. They were filled with all his exploits as he traveled the world, hiding from the Ministry and making up for 12 lost years. Harry nearly started crying again when he thought about it. He had the sudden terrible impulse to find the letters and burn them, but his heart cringed at the very thought of it. It made his insides squirm and he wondered how he could even think about destroying them. They were the only things he had left of Sirius. That and his precious Firebolt. The knife Sirius had given him for Christmas had been destroyed that night at the Ministry– his heart leapt painfully in his chest– and was melted beyond all use. 

_Read the letter Harry and stop thinking about it. _He could almost hear Hermione say it, her hands on her hips and staring at him in that determined way of hers, her head cocked back in a way that reminded him forcibly of Professor McGonagall. Harry obeyed and unfolded the letter, sitting down and stretching out on the bed. He cast a wary glance at his closed door before diving into the letter, determined to finish it before his Uncle came to give him his punishment.

            **Dear Harry,**

**                        Lovely summer, isn't it? Sorry I haven't written to you in a while, but it's been really busy and I couldn't find the time. Everything is so hectic around here! The D.A. has been keeping me occupied, but luckily Hedwig showed up. I was having a hard time finding an owl to use.**

Well that explained the lack of owls from Hermione and Ron. They decided on the train back from Hogwarts that they would refer to the Order as the D.A. in letters, to be safe in case an owl was intercepted. Harry re-read the passage about having a hard time finding an owl, and decided that meant someone had prevented Hermione from writing. Hermione could have borrowed an owl from anyone if she needed one. If she was at the Burrow, she wouldn't have had a problem sending a letter. Maybe Dumbledore had told her not to write. Harry continued on with the letter.

            **Ron is here with me–-**

Harry squinted at the parchment. What he had at first glance mistaken for an ink blob was actually Ron's handwriting. Harry bent closer to the parchment and could make out a **Hello, Harry!** before Hermione's handwriting began again. The paper was wrinkled a bit in that area, as if someone had wrestled with it. Harry smiled as he imagined Ron pilfering the paper mid-sentence while Hermione was writing. Hermione would have been in a right state.

            **–-and he sends his regards. Everyone else says hello as well. Mrs. Weasley wants me to tell you not to worry since you'll be here soon anyway.**

Harry grinned. They were finally coming to get him! It had only been three weeks since he left Hogwarts, and already he would get to leave the Dursleys'. Harry had to stop reading for a moment as a warm feeling filled his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, because he felt the annoying tears coming back. The feeling quickly passed and with a deep shaky breath he continued.

            **Fred and George say–- **

Again Hermione's handwriting broke off, to be replaced with a thinner, messier handwriting, which looked vaguely more dignified than Ron's, but no less rushed. It said **Don't**** do anything we would do! **Harry's grin resurfaced when he pictured the entire Weasley family huddled in the living room, Hermione sitting at the table with everyone breathing down her neck as she wrote, stealing the paper whenever they felt like they had something to add. Harry chuckled.

            **–- And you should listen to them! The last thing we need is another problem like last year. I hope the Dursley's have been treating you fairly–-**

Harry gave a violent start of disbelief when her handwriting stopped again, only to be replaced by the prim, no-nonsense writing of Professor McGonagall. Harry read over message **All right, Mr. Potter? **and wondered dimly why she would be at the Burrow. It was weird reading something from the Professor in a personal letter. He tried to picture her standing among the Weasleys, their vividly red hair against her black hair held back in a severe bun. It was like a raven sitting in a tree with a whole slew of cardinals. Shaking his head, he continued.

            **–-We're all waiting to see you! The D.A. has been coming around often and Mooney is staying here with us. He'll be there when we pick you up.       **

**            Have you been doing your homework? I hope you have, because that Potions essay Snape gave us takes at least a day of hard work to finish and the Transfiguration homework gave me bit of trouble. Imagine, turning a box of needles into toilet paper. Fred has been kind enough to tell me the tale of when he and George had the same assignment at Hogwarts and thought it would be a good idea to make several rolls and distribute them among all the prefect lavatories. Quite by accident, they inform me, they didn't Transfigure it correctly. Caused quite the bit of mayhem, or so they claim. I asked Professor McGonagall about it but she glared at me and told me to ask someone else. Well, I hope you've gotten started on your work, because Ron and I have finished ours and we wouldn't want you to miss out on any fun we might have just because you've been lazy and would have to do yours by yourself.             **

**I've finally gotten my own broomstick, a Nimbus 2000 like your old broom and we usually have a Quidditch game every night with Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie, who came back from Romania for a vacation. Charlie is really good! Sometimes the D.A. plays too, and those nights are really fun because we have enough players for two full teams. Some of them haven't seen you play either, so when you get here you'll have to show off a bit. Ron is getting loads better, he's been practicing a lot. Ginny has been too. Ron thinks Ginny will make a great Seeker after we've all graduated. **

**I'll tell you the rest when you get here. I should probably warn you about Fred and George though. Don't, under any circumstances, take anything they offer you, under pain of death (or worse)–-**

Harry was totally unprepared for Dumbledore's smooth spidery handwriting to pick up after Hermione's, and read the message in a minor state of shock. It read **Harry, my boy!** **Fred and George have been kind enough to introduce me to a marvelous treat they call 'Pneumatic Taffy', and while the side effects of it are rather mild, I urge you to try them! They're quite delicious! **Harry had to re-read the message to make sure he got it right. After the shock of having Dumbledore write to him in a personal letter, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Dumbledore was promoting _anything_ the Weasley twins had made. Harry quickly discarded the idea that Dumbledore had been bribed to do so, and concluded that it must be a joke by the twins to get him to try their products. Well, fat chance of that happening. But Harry had the horrible feeling that it wasn't a joke, and couldn't decide if his stomach dropped because Dumbledore had written to him or because Dumbledore was actually trying something the Fred and George made. Harry, on the other hand, had learned from experience. Assuring himself of his protection against Weasley pranks, Harry quickly read the rest of the letter, because he thought he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

            **–-That's everything. No need to send a letter back, I'll probably be too busy to respond. I hope your summer has been great! Take care, Harry!**

**                                                                                    Hermione**

Harry choked when he saw the bottom of the parchment. It was crammed with signatures. The sheer number of people who had signed in good wishes made his heart flutter in his chest. The entire Weasley family had signed, except for Percy. Harry grinned when he looked at them. They were so radically different that it was difficult to tell that they belonged together. If it weren't for the Weasley attached to the end of each of them, one could never tell they were related. You couldn't even _tell_ what Ron's said. While his handwriting was abysmally messy, it was readable, but his signature was just a mess of lines and loops. All you could make out was an 'R' and a 'W', and that was only because they were slightly bigger than the rest of the letters, and therefore slightly easier to see. Mr. Weasley had a bubbly signature, much larger than the rest of the family's. It was elegant, business-like, probably from years of signing papers at the Ministry. Mrs. Weasley's was short and squat, but neat. Ginny had a remarkably clear and nice signature, with a lot of feminine curls and a dramatic, elegant swirl at the final 'Y'. Fred and George's were slightly different from one another, but still managed to look as if they belonged together. Theirs was tall and broad and looked every bit as business-like as Mr. Weasley's. Harry imagined that the twins had a lot of cause to use their signatures as of late. From all appearances, after their dramatic and legendary flight from Hogwarts, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was booming. Harry shuddered when he imagined the mischief that was bound to occur at Hogwarts this year. Filch was going to go mad. Harry could almost pity the man. Almost.

Harry gave the rest of the signatures a cursory glance. There was Hermione, of course, along with Remus. A few of the names Harry didn't recognize, but many of them he remembered as members of the Order. There was Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Moody, along with Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge, whom he recognized as the people who had come to get him last summer. It seemed like a life-time ago. He also picked out Emmeline Vance and spotted Hestia Jones squeezed in a corner. Professor McGonagall had signed next to Professor Dumbledore, and there, sitting off to the side, was Professor Snape. Snape's signature was sharp and simple, with little flare and even less warmth. Harry was staring at it with a weird look on his face when the door slammed open.

Harry's hand whipped forward and shoved the letter under the covers of his bed. Whatever warmth the letter had given him flowed away, and he stared up at the menacing form of Vernon Dursley, determined no to show any sign of weakness. 

"Yes?" inquired Harry, keeping his voice neutral.

Vernon opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again. He glared down at Harry, his meaty fists clenching at his side. Without a word, he spun so quickly on his heel he almost lost his balance and walked sharply out of the room, slamming the door so loud that Harry was surprised the door didn't crumble into a thousand wooden pieces at the sheer force of it.

Harry waited a good twenty minutes before he decided he was safe for the moment. He reached under the covers and gently recovered the letter. He held the parchment in his hands and stared at it. Carefully he folded it and slipped it into the envelope, which had fallen onto the floor, then put it under his pillow. With nothing left to do, he took off his glasses and put them onto the nightstand. He turned off the light and slide into his bed. 

He didn't fall asleep right away. He sat for a long time thinking about the letter, about Ron and Hermione, about Lupin and Sirius, about McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the Order. And oddly, just before he fell asleep, he caught himself think of Snape and he wondered why the man had signed his letter and, not for the first time, he wondered what the man was doing.

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_Chapter 2:  What Snape was doing!___


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